The Story of the Totes Kind
by Wilhelmina Frantsevna
Summary: This is a story about transgender non operated heterosexual girl. All characters and events are fictional. All coincidences are random.
1. Chapter 1

The Story of the Totes Kind. Part I

It was a cold February night. The wind howled terribly and shook the window frames. Elenora sat by the window and reflected on the latest developments. She was in the last month of pregnancy and was about to give birth. But she did not want this child at all. Firstly, she was too young to want a child, and secondly, she guessed that Klaus - the father of the child - was cheating on her, and not even with a woman, but with a man. This was the most offensive. How could he exchange her, Eleanor, a well-bred girl from a decent family, for some man, and not even for a decent person, but for some lousy fagot! She felt that cheating with a man, Klaus cheated not only on her, he cheated on the entire female gender, sacred family traditions, country, religion, God. She could never forgive that. Before her eyes, like a fast-motion shot, she could see green well-groomed lawns, happy children with golden curls and lace collars running around, solemn services in St. Bartholomew s Cathedral, a golden-crusted Christmas goose, a ski resort in the Alps, reindeer sweaters, a Bosch washing machine. All this was lost forever. Everything went to hell! What will she say to her parents! Relatives! Decent people, finally!

Oh, how angry she was with him! She was ready to kill him, or, no, better to kill herself. Best to throw herself under a train like that crazy Russian Anna Karenina. Let there be a lot of blood, let the remains be scattered on the railway tracks, but she would kill herself and her, no, his child. Oh, my God, who needs this baby! Damn him! Tears rolled down her cheeks and She bit her lower lip until it bled. The heat rose to her head. But no, Elenor had grown up in a Catholic family and knew that suicide was a great sin. She would never do that. It was only a momentary impulse. Although, who knows, if she had been standing on the platform then, maybe she really did. But now the impulse was gone, and the cold, rational consciousness began to return to her. She will give birth to this unhappy child. And let it be a reproach to his worthless father. For the rest of his life, this child will atone for the sins of his scampish dad. She would call her Anna (Eleanor for some reason was sure that a girl would be born) after this crazy Russian. She knew that her husband had Russian origin. And that angered her even more. Can there be anything good from these Russians? They are all atheists or madmen, which is the same thing. Elenor rose from her chair, walked across the dim room, took out a napkin and dabbed at the blood on her lower lip.

Suddenly there was a sharp sound a door slammed, Klaus returned from a night party. "Honey, I want to talk to you..." he said with the intonation of a not-quite-sober man. Eleanor's old anger had taken hold of her with a new force, she could not breathe, her eyes had darkened, and she could not remember anything further. When she awoke, she found herself in a hospital bed in a bright, spacious room, it was very cold and she was shivering. An elderly nurse brought a small, screaming bundle. It was her, no, his child, a boy. She turned her face away to the wall because she didn't want to see him. "I wish he was dead," thought Eleanor, and said nothing. The child was taken away. So Arney was born.

It was a child with the appearance of a Christmas cherub: light brown curls that faded in the sun to wheat-gold, expressive dark gray eyes that changed from asphalt to violet color depending on the light, and contrasted favorably with the milky white porcelain-transparent skin with pale blue veins, a round face with tiny dimples on the cheeks, a small round chin with a small indentation, a neat little upturned nose and puffy pale pink lips. There was only one non-canonical pagan trait in his completely canonical appearance small pointed elven ears, which gave this creature a mysterious, almost alien appearance. All the frau and madhen were in ecstasy at the sight of this wonderful creature of unearthly beauty, and immediately began to squeeze and pinch his all the soft places, but Arney did not like it, and he fiercely resisted, fighting off with graceful arms and legs the intrusive encroachments of the impudent women, than soon spoiled his reputation.

Moreover, he was a sickly and strange child. He started walking and talking late, didn t play with other children and spent all his time alone, inventing strange games that only he could understand, he painted strange pictures that depicted death scenes. Arney's only friend was a teddy bear with frayed dark brown hair and black button eyes. Arney loved him very much and dragged him everywhere, they were almost inseparable, since Arney cried loudly whenever the bear was tried to be taken from him.

Adults could not understand what was going on in the head of this little cherub-beast and advised parents to show him to a doctor. The parents paid no attention to him. The father lived with his new friend and rarely visited his former family. In Arney's mind, he existed only nominally. The mother was too busy with her emotional problems and failed attempts to arrange her personal life, and the unwanted child only irritated her. Depending on her mood, she either ignored him or beat him mercilessly for the slightest offense. She didn't understand why Arney was acting this way or other, but neither did he.

Arney had a vague idea that he was different from the other children, but he didn't know what it was. Why doesn't he like playing with boys? Why were they so rude and cruel to him? All the time they somehow tried to hurt, push or hit him, but Arney did not want to answer the same way and simply stepped aside. He didn't understand why he had to fight for his place in the sun, why he couldn't just be, harm no one, humiliate no one, and oppress no one. The girls didn't take him into their games either. He was too strange and incomprehensible for them. When he approached them with hope of getting some attention, they immediately fell silent and pretended not to notice him.

Only with one girl did he play, as strange and unsociable as he was. This girl was not like everyone else: she was too fat and tall, much larger than her peers and almost twice the size of the miniature Arney, and she had a strong lisp. The girl's name was Bertha. Children laughed at her, called her "lisping", "fat", "cow", "sausage". She sat quietly in her needle and played with her only old doll, not daring to claim any friendship. Only Arney looked at her sympathetically, because he saw her as an outsider as he was. He was the first to approach Bertha and offer to play together, and although his games were strange and he played mostly only with his teddy bear, the girl was very happy, her eyes lit up with sincere gratitude, and she was happy to offer him everything she had an old doll named Elsa. The doll had a rather deplorable appearance: its yellow hair the color of urine was disheveled and looked like tow, one eye was broken, and the faded dress was an indeterminate marsh-green. The doll had a talking mechanism built into it, and the only word that was recorded on it "mommy" was pronounced in such a horrible, raspy voice that Arnie shuddered with disgust. He immediately offered to bury Elsa out of compassion, of course, because existence with such appearance and such a voice is a continuous torment not only for herself, but also for others. Bertha at first resisted this, but then, in gratitude to this strange boy, she finally agreed, and the procedure was successfully performed. Arney personally performed the funeral march with a tin can and his voice, which was also angelically charming. Fortunately, the doll did not suffer much: it lay safely in the ground, wrapped in an improvised shroud of polyethylene, in a makeshift coffin made of cardboard for exactly three days, after which it was extracted and lived a long life. However, something had happened to the talking mechanism, and the doll didn't talk anymore.

Since then Arney and Berthe have spent long happy hours together. Once, in a burst of gratitude, Berthe wrapped Arney s skinny shoulders with her big plump arms, clutching the stunned Arney tightly to her broad chest so that his breath caught, and kissed tenderly his lily cheek. A strange couple immediately appeared in the spotlight. The children surrounded them and began to laugh loudly, calling them "bride and groom", which in children's environment is a curse terribly indecent. Arney was embarrassed, but he didn't show it, because he was used to being unfriendly and knew that a sincere expression of emotion would not bring him relief. However, from that moment on, Arney's position worsened. He was only despised and ignored before, and now he was openly mocked. Everyone felt it their duty to express their hatred towards Arney in some way: to say an hurtful word to him, to trip him up, to hit him, to push him, to knock over a glass of juice on him, to spit on his plate.

It was especially painful to accept from Otto the most handsome and strong boy in the group, who was the ringleader in all games Arney did not dare to speak openly to him, but glanced furtively at him, watching the animal grace of the young body, in his movements there was something wild, violent, primeval, like nature itself. When Otto accidentally touched Arney, there was no malice in his mind, he did not think that he was doing something wrong. Otto simply believed that everyone should be able to stand up for themselves, and if someone could not do it, then it was the fault of the suffering side, not the attacker.

At night Arney lay in his little bed, hugging his battered Teddy boy, and could not sleep for a long time. "So who am I?" he thought. "There are boys and girls. They dress differently, play different games, they don't often befriend each other. But no one befriends me. Why? Am I a boy or a girl?" Arney already understood the difference between the sexes and knew that he was anatomically closer to boys, but at the same time this didn't correlate with his psychological perception of gender. He knew that he was a stranger among the boys, that he could not belong to their circle, that they would never accept him into their company. He was different from them in some way, but he could not understand the difference. In his heart, he felt more like a girl: he liked the pink color, ribbons, bows, puffy dresses, he secretly spied on how mom uses makeup, going on another date. He felt that there was some mystery in this, the magic of transformation, when an ordinary girl or woman suddenly turns into a fabulous fairy or a dangerous demoness. He was attracted by this changeability, the play of images that contrasted so much with the routine of the ordinary life. It's so boring to be the same always, and not be able to escape into the world of your dreams. He fantasized, of course, profusely, but not at all as ordinary boys fantasize, imagining themselves as heroes and supermen, saving the world from catastrophes of universal scale. His fantasies were more refined. He imagined himself as an unbelievable beautiful, wonderful creature, spreading magic and wizardry everywhere, transforming world and people with a glance, a word, a touch, but at the same time inexpressibly sad, captured by some evil demon or monster, calling for help. And this handsome boy Otto always came to the rescue.

One Sunny summer day, the children were playing in the kindergarten yard. Arney wandered around the playground alone, feeling sad. After the strong embrace of the loving Bertha, with whom he was accustomed to pass the hours, he was afraid to approach her. All that was left for him to wander alone in the farthest corner of the garden among the stunted bushes, so as not to attract the attention of his detractors. Suddenly Arney noticed that some unfamiliar boy was running toward him, and a cry of some crazy unbridled joy of existence came from his throat, his tanned skin shining in the sun, contrasting with the white t-shirt and blue shorts. As the boy ran closer, Arnie noticed that he was incredibly beautiful with golden-brown hair, radiant light-brown eyes, and golden freckles all over his face. The boy ran straight into Arney and knocked him into the bushes, he began to inflict light blows to him on the right and left, but Arney did not react in any way. He was just froze. It was so new and unusual for him. Their bodies touching, each other, Arnie felt the confused breath of an unfamiliar boy, his smell and warmth. Arnie felt dizzy. A wave of happiness suddenly swept through his small, quivering body, concentrating on the groin. This feeling was so strong that Arney was afraid to lose his consciousness. At last the boy spoke: "Why don't you defend yourself? I knocked you down, I beat you. I defeated you. Now you are my slave." The boy's lips blurred into a wide and quite kindly smile. "But if you want, we'll just be friends," he added. Arney didn't say anything, he just prayed that the feeling wouldn't let him go, and clung tighter to the boy's body, wrapping his arms around him. Oddly enough, the boy didn't pull away, he didn't run away, and it seemed that he was stunned too.

So they lay together under the blazing sun in blissful semi-oblivion for some time, seeing nothing at all around them, not noticing that old Frau Gertrude heated in the sun hobbled towards them on her arthritic legs. What she saw was completely incomprehensible to her catholic-bred mind, and therefore caused a mixed feeling of fear and anger: two little boys were lying on the grass, clinging tightly to each other. What did it mean? They didn't play or fight each other. They just lied on the grass and rubbed against each other. Oh, my God! A bad feeling came over her. "Get up immediately! "Oh!" she screamed in a shrill, hysterical voice. The boys turned reluctantly on her and slowly rose from the grass. Their hair was disheveled, their faces red and hot. But what struck frau Gertrude the most was the small hump under one boys' shorts. Frau Gertrude's eyes darkened and she swayed and sank slowly to the grass. Panic arose, everyone fussed, finally someone brought ammonia and a wet towel, and, finally, frau Gertrude came to her senses, but that day she did not appear at work, another younger teacher came in her place. Frau Elenor was urgently called from work and had a long conversation in the head office.

Since then Arney no longer went to kindergarten and did not see this boy. Everything had changed in Arney's life. His mother beat him badly after this incident and locked him in the room. She said that Arney had taken after his father, and that such people should be isolated from society, and that it would be better for him not to be born. Arney didn't know what was going on, he was scared. He thought his mother had locked him in the room for the rest of his life. Suddenly he felt so empty inside that he wanted to die. It's awful to spend your entire life on this small square of space nothing to see, nothing to do, nobody to talk to. He felt so helpless, so worthless, so wretched that he didn't even want to move. After an hour of motionless sitting it suddenly seemed to him that all people had died, and he was alone in this world, no one would come for him. He is doomed to a slow, painful death from thirst and hunger. Fortunately there was his favorite chocolate bar on the table, which his mother didn't notice and didn't take away from him. It might help him hold out for a while. He might have to drink his own urine. Oh my God! He was scared of dying! But he longed for death, and at the same time this thought frightened him. Hideous images of decay and death passed before his mind's eye. It suddenly seemed to him that he was deep underground in a crypt next to decaying bodies, and he was just like them. He felt his flesh die off part by part, piece by piece, cell by cell. He does not feel the tips of his toes, he does not feel the tips of his fingers, the tip of his nose. Starting from the periphery the decomposition gradually approached the heart. And now he felt nothing. He was dead. It was strange that he was so clearly aware of this. Does consciousness depend on the body, doesn't it? Is consciousness immortal? It is so terrible to be dead and still alive, to feel the decay of your own body, to feel your own deadness. Consciousness of this is unbearable. How painful is this disembodied pain of consciousness! It would be better not to be aware! It would be better not to be born at all! Mom was right.

It is not known how much time Arney spent locked in the room, because it seemed to Arney that time had stopped. But suddenly he heard the sound of a key turning in the door. This did not please him at all, because he had long since lost all hope, and his future fate was indifferent to him. Perhaps it was the people who came to bury him. But the mother entered the room, cruel and adamant as always, tall and slender, always impeccably dressed and fit. Her beautiful face showed no emotion, her carefully made-up pursed lips didn't flinch, only her gray eyes glittered with a cold, steely gleam. "Arney, come with me," she finally said. Arney timidly got up, Eleanor took his thin shoulders in her cold, strong hands and led him out of the room. She told him to get into a black Volkswagen and set behind the wheel. Arney didn't know where they were going, so he was scared. He really wanted to piss, but he couldn't say that, he was so scared.

The Volkswagen stopped at a tall gray building and they got out. Elenor held Arney's hand tightly. They entered the building and headed down a long, narrow, gray, dimly lit corridor. The booming footsteps echoed through the high vaults of the building and rang in Arney's ears. It seemed to him that this corridor would never end. At last they entered an office. He was ordered to undress. He obeyed. The cold tile made his body shudder instinctively. The man in white examined him carefully. He said something in a language Arney didn't understand to the woman standing next to him, also dressed in white. She gave him a light gray pajamas and told him to get dressed, then they went out into the corridor where the gurney was. The woman helped Arney up. So he lay there for a while, feeling the cold, slippery oilcloth beneath him, wondering what they were going to do to him. Perhaps they want to subject him to some new unknown punishment? To injure? To kill? He did not dare even to ask about it. Finally, the pressure in his bladder became unbearable, and he told the woman that he wanted to piss. She left and after a while brought a small, not very clean glass bottle. The woman told him to piss into this. Due to embarrassment and fear, he could not get into the narrow neck of the bottle, so most of the urine spilled on the floor. Arney was terribly embarrassed and thought he would be punished. But the woman left without a word. In her place came another, who seemed younger and more affable. A bee will bite you now, she said with a playful intonation in her voice and told him to turn over on his tummy, in one motion she pulled down his pants and deftly stuck the needle in the left buttock. Arney felt a slight pain. He felt dizzy. The gurney rolled down the hall.

At last he was brought into a large, bright room lined with white tiles. After the dimness of the corridor the bright light stung Arney's eyes. There was an operating table in the room, glass cabinets and some devices, purpose of which Arney didn't know. Everything was made of glass and steel. There was a sharp smell of medicine. They put Arney on the table and brought the plastic mask to his face. He could not breathe, and tried to free himself from the mask, but was not allowed to do so. Arney began to sink into the darkness. Soon he saw his body lying helplessly below, limp and useless. Some people in white were fussing over him. Arney felt compassion for the helpless boy: "Run! Get up and run! What the hell are you waiting for?! Get out of there!" he shouted, but the boy below did not hear him and did not react at all, then compassion gave way to contempt: "Stupid idiot! Why don't you try to run away? If you don't want to do this now, then you don't deserve anything better." The disembodied spirit was about to fly away, but suddenly there was a click, and Arney was back down on the table. He opened his eyes and saw the same people in white above him. He wanted to run away, but his body did not obey him. Arney wept softly in despair, helplessness, and pain.

Thus Arney had died, and Anna and Varney were born.


	2. Chapter 2

The Story of the Totes Kind. Part II

Although everyone called him Arney habitually, Arney no longer existed as one person. His mind was split: there were two completely different personalities. The first person Anna was internal, spiritual, agile, receptive, sensitive and vulnerable. The second person Varney was external, bodily, sad, indifferent, inert pale ghost frozen in a somnambulistic trance.

The healthier and stronger personality of these two was Anna, because she contained the creative principle. Varney was always depressed. He was half dead, because he bore the impact of the dead Arney, and therefore had the coldness and heaviness of the dead. Varney had the nature of a vampire, because he had no energy of his own and fed on Anna's energy. And Anna couldn't do anything about this, because despite her power Anna was too incorporeal to have any significant effect on Varney.

These two personalities were in constant conflict with each other, there was a continuous struggle between them, and therefore they both suffered severely. Anna hated Varney, because Varney was too dense and did not allow Anna to manifest herself, he built a blind wall between Anna and the world, immured her in the shell. Varney hated Anna because she was too incorporeal, agile, restless and tormented him, filling his heart with hopeless longing, forcing him to wander aimlessly and rush about.

But outwardly everything remained as before, people perceived him as Arney, who was only a dead shell of these two conflicting personalities, a receptacle of hell inside, outwardly - an empty faceless mask of indifference and powerlessness. Arney's quiet days were monotonous. They consisted mainly of daily routines: sleeping, eating, bathing, dressing, walking, taking medicine, reading morning and evening prayers. The rules of the game were simple: if you do something wrong, you were beaten, if you do everything right, they leave you alone. Nothing new. One day is like another. All actions are worked out many times and brought to automatism. You don't have to be alive for that, do you?

Arney barely spoke this year, ate little, slept little, lost his weight, even so grown up remarkably, his skin turned earthy pale, his eyes sunken in dark circles. There wasn't left a trace of the delicate cherub. He was supposed to go to school the next year. A Catholic school was chosen for his education because Elenor's family adhered to Catholic traditions. It was an old establishment with a solid reputation, which was located in the former building of the Carmelite monastery built in the Gothic style. Its vaults went far upwards, the long corridors immersed in twilight seemed endless, walls covered with grayish plaster were decorated with paintings of old masters depicting the scenes of the Last Judgment and the life of the martyrs. Eternal cold reigned in auditoriums, that smelling damp and musty. The furniture also was dark, old, massive. The school management did not change the interior deliberately, so as not to destroy the unique atmosphere of the ancient monastery. And Arney sensed it deeply.

The school's routine also resembled that of a monastery, and had been not changed for decades. Only boys attended the school. The day began at 7.30 with the obligatory prayer service, then classes began. The compulsory program included Latin, catechism, the basics of religion, Holy Scripture, chanting. Attending Sunday and festive services, reciting prayers, confession and communion were also required. Among the teachers the clergy predominated. A strict disciplinary system was developed, severe penalties for violation were provided, physical punishment was not prohibited, although the system of moral influence was so sophisticated that physical punishment seemed unnecessary.

From the first days the atmosphere of the school produced a strong impression on Arney's delicate nervous system. He was stunned by the extraordinary beauty and grandeur of the building and depressed at the same time. These ancient vaults awakened in him vague desires and strange fantasies. They caused both the desire to rise up, and the fear of falling into the abyss.

The first day of school was a shock for Arney. He had never seen so many strangers before. They were all fussing, talking excitedly, arguing, laughing. All were dressed in uniform black clothes and looked alike. Arney didn't know what was going on. It was like madness to him. They were led to a huge hall where a solemn prayer service was held. The black-robed man read a speech that contained many unfamiliar words. Then the children were assigned to classes and went to the classrooms. There another man in black, who introduced himself as their class teacher Herr Kohler, also said something long and hard: about obedience, humility, the will of God and the love of the God our Lord Jesus Christ to his flock. All this was very mysterious and incomprehensible to the little boy.

Then they all went to the refectory and were given some insipid bread and a glass of warm milk. But Arney didn't want to eat at all. He just wanted to get out of here and never come back. All these people were alien to him. Besides it was very cold here, and Arney was shivering. He gave his milk and bread to a boy who took it without any thanks and began to chew slowly and melancholy. Finally the whole ceremony came to the end, and they were allowed to go home. Mom picked him up and brought him home. But from now on he had to get up at 6 a.m. every day and go to school, because it was the other side of the city.

So school days dragged on. Daily prayers, chants, reading, writing, counting. All this was not very interesting to Arney. He often flew away in his dreams, looking thoughtfully out of the window, and received immediately a rod on his fingers for this. His classmates laughed at him and called him a "lunatic." He didn't make friends with any of them. They all looked the same to him. All he wanted to be left alone, and after school he would slip away as soon as possible.

Arney was interested in the occult sciences much more. When he became a little older, he would sneak into the old library and read old books on alchemy and astrology. He did not understand most of the words, but the mysterious signs fascinated him. He could sit for hours peering at them and trying to make sense of them. He had a small notebook, where he copied these symbols and in the evening looked at them secretly for a long time.

Their class teacher Herr Kohler was a middle-aged man, heavy, rude, and untidy, handing out slaps right and left easily. But at the same time he did not enjoy any authority among the students, they laughed at him behind his back and did all sorts of mischief.

Father Michael was a more interesting and charismatic person . He was a middle-aged man, slim and agile beyond his years. His face would have been handsome if there wasn't something carnivorous in its expression. He had black coarse hair, dark brown deep-set eyes with piercing gaze and sharp features of a predatory bird. When he smiled, which was rare, his yellow pointed teeth were exposed, and this gave him some resemblance to a vampire.

Father Michael taught chanting and religious disciplines. Arney was afraid of him, because he felt a threat coming from him. Nevertheless Father Michael enjoyed great authority among teachers and students. He never allowed himself public display of emotions and physical abuse. He usually called guilty students to his office and students were afraid of him. It seemed that those who were called to the office more often were losing their strength: fading, drooping, losing weight, some of them had disappeared at all. This aroused a mystical fear in Arney.

Especially great fear was caused by the lessons of chanting. For every wrong note penance was imposed: kneeling and reciting prayers. But most of all Arney was afraid of Father Michael's room. The thought of this took his breath away and he could not sing, though Arney had a beautiful clear voice. Because of this Father Michael disliked Arney, and gave him low marks. Nevertheless somehow Arney always managed to avoid Father Michael's room. But one day the boys' choir was singing Gloria in Excelsis Dei during a Festive Mass, and Arney forgot the words.

This angered father Michael, and he ordered Arney to report to his room the next day after school. Arney spent the whole day in a semi-fainting state, he didn't slept the whole night, imagining punishments that the most perverted imagination could invent, recalling the pictures of the Last Judgment and the tortures of the martyrs that he had seen at school. The next day he got out of bed completely exhausted and did not want to go to school. This day was truly hellish for Arney.

Since the morning he had felt unwell: he was dizzy, his stomach was sucking, a feeling of weakness spread all over his body, at times he broke into a cold sweat. He told his mother about that, but she decided the boy was lying, and did not allow him to stay at home. At school Arney got only low marks that day, as all the information didn't get him, he barely understood what was going on. Then came the fateful hour when Arney had to go to Father Michael's room. His legs didn't obey him, he thought not to go. But then a boy from the senior class came up to him and said that Father Michael was waiting for him, and that he would be very angry if Arney did not come. Arney went to Father Michael's room with a heavy heart. He went to the massive oak door, knocked, enter the half-light room and saw the stern face of Father Michael. All this was as in a dream.

"I've been waiting for you, my boy," said Father Michael. "You have sinned and must be punished". "Do you know what your fault is?" Father Michael asked. "Yes, Father," Arney replied. "I forgot the words during the Festive Mass." "No, my son, these weren't just words, you did not praise the God our Lord Jesus Christ, you negligented the Divine Service and thus defiled the Holy Mass. Now you must fully feel the weight of your sin and the purifying power of punishment. First of all this is necessary for you, my son. Take off your clothes!". "What? Arney asked in confusion. "Don't ask the questions". Arney undressed unwillingly. "Now get down on your knees and repeat after me." Arney knelt on the cold stone floor in front of a reproduction of Hans Memling's Last Judgment and began to repeat the words of the penitential prayer in Latin:

"Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beat Mari semper Virgini, beato Michaeli Archangelo, beato Joanni Baptist, sanctis Apostolis Petro et Paulo, omnibus Sanctis, et vobis, fratres, et tibi, pater, quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo et opere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem, beatum Michaelem Archangelum, beatum Joannem Baptistam, sanctos Apostolos Petrum et Paulum, omnes Sanctos, et vos, fratres, et te, pater, orare pro me ad Dominum Deum nostrum".

That means: "I confess to Almighty God, to blessed Mary ever Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel to blessed John the Baptist, to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to all the Saints, and to you, brethren, that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word and deed: through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault. Therefore I beseech blessed Mary ever Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, all the Saints, and you, brethren, to pray for me to the Lord our God".

Arney was afraid to mispronounce a single word. He was shivering. Father Michael took out the rod and struck. The small, thin, pale body shuddered. This did not bother father Michael at all, as he continued to strike blow after blow, leaving bright pink marks on the snow-white skin. Arney didn't even cry, he was so stunned and depressed, that he only shuddered under the measured blows. Finally the flogging was over, and he felt Father Michael's long, spidery fingers slide over his skin. Arney was afraid. It was worse than the flogging, because it was incomprehensible. The cold, long fingers sank lower and lower until they reached the most vulnerable point. Then they paused for a moment. Arney panicked. He wanted to scream, but his voice was gone. Suddenly he began to feel sick, he vomited with his body convulsing, and he hit the floor, then he did not remember anything. Arney spent in a fever at home two weeks.


	3. Chapter 3

The Story of the Totes Kind. Part III

After this incident Arney moved to another school. It was Catholic too, but not so old, not so gothic. There weren't so many representatives of the clergy, religious subjects and ascetic disciplinary system. There wasn't separate education: boys and girls studied together. And the girls immediately noticed the new handsome boy. They constantly stared at him and giggled behind his back, that was embarrassing for Arney. While the boys immediately disliked Arney, although they didn't openly oppress him, they felt that he was a stranger.

Arney's new class teacher, Frau Ritter, was a young seemingly unremarkable woman of small stature, dressed in a gray dress of strict cut, her hair slicked back, with huge glasses on her small, thin face. She was an eccentric person, she didn't adhere to the school curriculum and gave students a lot of material that doesn't correspond to their age. She had her own views on education.

She believed that independence of thought and creativity should be developed from early childhood, and that children should join the masterpieces of the world classics from an early age. At the same time, Frau Ritter paid homage to mystical and fantastic literature and often read to the children of Edgar Allan Poe, Howard Lovecraft, Bram Stoker, Stephen King and other non-child authors. The children willingly forgave her for this weakness and listened to these horrible stories with pleasure.

One day Frau Ritter began to read them a very strange eerie story, the author of which Arney's did not know. It was about a man suffering from a nervous disorder, painfully sensitive to sensory signals and experiencing unusual sensations, and that eventually led to the murder. This story was completely incomprehensible to 9-year-old students. But the eerie, ominous, irrational atmosphere of the narrative made a strong impression on the children. The entire class froze in suspense. When they got to the final words:

"But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now again! Hark! Louder! Louder! Louder! Louder! "Villains!" I shrieked, "Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! Tear up the planks! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!"

Arney felt an inexplicable fear inside him. It seemed to him he was the main character of the story himself. He could not fall asleep for a long time after going into his bed, he saw the appalling pale-blue film-covered eye of the old man-vulture and heard the beating of either his own or old man's heart in the darkness of night. But despite this untimely strange acquaintance with Edgar Poe, Arney soon began to read these chilling stories on his own: "The Fall of the House of Usher , The Pit and the Pendulum, The Black Cat and others. Poe became his favorite author, because he felt a deep kinship with the maestro. So Arney discovered the aesthetics of terrible.

At that time for reading passed unnoticed. Arney spent hours reading books that didn't fit his age: mysticism, science fiction, esotericism. The world of the mysterious and supernatural completely bewitched him. All these mysterious incidents, inexplicable phenomena, mysterious symbols attracted him. Astrology, alchemy, palmistry, runes, Tarot. How dear to his heart were these mediaeval curiosities! After school Arney would fled to the old Jewish cemetery, there was quiet, reverent atmosphere. There he had found a secluded corner, where he could plunge headlong into the world of mystical literature. Oh, how wonderful those ancient symbols were! They lived their own special life: they interacted with each other, connected and diverged, loved and hated, weaved intrigues and created fates. And everything in this world was subject to strict laws. This world of harmony and order was much more perfect than the world of people. Oh, if one could leave this mortal body and live the pure life of the world of ideas.

And soon it became an urgent need for him, the only joy in life, because his body betrayed him. Strange changes began to occur in it, which disturbed and frightened him. He was 12 years old. He had grown noticeably over the past year, which made him feel uneasy, he began to pull his head into his shoulders, stoop his back, bend his knees. The hair started to grow in his armpits and on his pubis, the smell of sweat intensified, his voice became rougher, his testicles and penis grew in size, and in the morning his bed often was wet.

It was a completely new body, unfamiliar, alien and hostile. It seemed to him this body did not belong to him, he ended up in it by some ridiculous accident, as a result of some fatal mistake, a whim, or by the will of forces he had no idea of. It seemed to him that some hostile entity had supplanted his own self, and that he was deprived of control of his body. Maybe it was one of those creepy stories he'd heard at school about cases of demonic possession.

He was afraid to wake up in the morning, afraid to feel this new body, so swollen, wet, fragrant, full of unknown forces and vague desires. A wave of incomprehensible excitement rose from within, giving way to absolute apathy and sense of impotence. The heat gave way to chills. Something unknown was growing in him, something terrible. He was afraid to think about the future, afraid to look into the mirror, because he did not recognize himself, it seemed to him that someone else was looking at him on the other side of the glass, watching. And this other was completely alien and hostile to him.

Physical and physiological changes occurred also with other boys, and they often discussed that in the locker-room before gym classes. But if the other boys took it easy, laughed and even boasted about it, then Arney wasn't happy about it. That time the boys began to feel an increased interest in the girls, and the girls in the boys respectively, they began to make the first awkward passes towards each other at first timidly as if by chance then more and more insistent and openly.

There was an invisible game between the boys and girls that Arney didn't understand. They constantly tried to touch each other with a word, a look, a body. There were some incomprehensible hints in their speech, their bodies acquired a new grace and new dynamics: approach, repulsion, pressure, retreat, resistance, suppleness. Sympathy and hostility became more pronounced. Almost everyone had their own preferences. Only Arney wasn't involved in that. He was a perfect outcast. Outwardly apathetic, passionate inside, passive and at the same time taut as a string.

Classmates, especially boys, often harassed Arney because of this, made fun of him, demanded overt confessions, bold actions and not getting that, made humiliating remarks about his masculinity. This was very frightening and depressing for Arney, and he began to avoid their company even more, to withdraw more into himself. Arney became to wrap himself more and more in a black shroud, descending into the world of shadows.

During this period the split between Anna and Varney deepened. Anna became even more independent, more self-willed, capricious. Varney became, on the contrary, even more inert, stubborn, sullen, demanding more and more energy for himself. Varney pressed Anna more and more; he wanted her to be his humble shadow, obey him in everything, providing him with energy. While Anna wanted to live her own full life, she wanted to love, create, dance. Varney couldn't let that happen, it was too dangerous for him, because it could deprive him of energy. But Anna didn't want to put up with Varney no longer, and one day she decided to kill him.

It was a cold spring day. Arney as usual went to the cemetery after school. The cemetery watchman gave Arney an unkind look of his alcohol-clouded eyes. He had noticed a tall, pale, thin boy, who had been coming here too often, long ago, and his another appearance irritated the old watchman. The boy walked down the alley passing ancient Jewish graves with mysterious Hebrew letters and headed straight for the spreading old oak tree, where he liked to sit, hiding himself from prying eyes.

Arney leaned against the rough surface of the oak, pulled out a razor, and thought: "If I stay alive, will it make any sense? Will it make anyone feel better? It is too hard for me to bear this existence. It's too hard to be human being. And if my existence doesn't matter, if no one needs me, isn't it better to leave right now?" The boy slashed with force the razor across the thin, pale hand. Dark cherry blood gushed from the vein. Arney closed his eyes, for a moment he was afraid, as if he were falling into a black endless void. "Where am I? Where am I going?", he thought. "Maybe I will fall like this for millions of light-years and there will be no end to it? Oh, how I wish I could go back to this old cemetery, to this world that I hate, there was some certainty at least."

Suddenly he felt someone kick him in the side. "Hey, get up!" a smoky voice croaked. "What are you doing? It is too late. The cemetery is closing." Arney opened his eyes. He didn't immediately know where he was. It was dark, but soon his eyes got used, and he saw the watchman above him. "Hey, guy! You're covered in blood! What happened to you?" Then Arney came to his senses, grabbed a razor, and ran away. His heart was pounding. The attempt failed. "Well, then it wasn't meant to be", Arney thought and headed home. His arm ached badly, but the blood stopped, the wound was covered with a thin layer of clotted blood.

Arriving home, Arney immediately received a portion of reproaches from his mother: "Where have you been for so long, little brat? I was so nervous, I wanted to look for you already. You don't think about your mother at all." Arney did not pay attention to these words and locked himself in his room. Eleanor knocked furiously on the door: "Why don't you want to talk to me, moron! You don t listen to me at all? You are just like your father." Arney lay down on the bed and covered his head with a pillow. He just didn't want to see or hear anything right now. He regretted the failed attempt.

After the house was silent, Arney got out of bed and quietly made his way to the bathroom to treat and dress the wound. He changed his blood-stained clothes, removed a layer of dried blood from the wound that looked like a red fat worm, and treated the cut with a swab of iodine. The wound was not very large. Arney felt as if he had cut himself deeper. It sored badly. He tied it up somehow with a bandage, using one hand. He tried to wash away the bloodstained clothes, but he did not succeed, then he hid it in his room, intending to get rid of it in the morning. At that moment Arney felt like a killer hiding the traces of a crime. After all he wanted to kill. He would have killed if he had been able to bring it to the end.

Since that Arney got a new hobby: he began to inflict wounds not only on his hands, but also throughout his body, not to kill himself, he knew that a small wound would not do much harm, but to feel the pain. He liked physical pain, because it distracted him from the mental pain that was unbearable. When everything was quiet in the house: everyone was gone or asleep; he would take out a razor, admiring it in the moonlight for a while, and then began to sink it slowly into his emaciated body. The edges of the snow-white skin parted and showed a red underside, drops of warm blood trickled down the body. The wound was sore from contact with the air, but it was pleasant. It was a kind of catharsis, purification, a release from the heavy oppressive feelings inside. Having enjoyed the moment, Arney wiped the blood, treated the wound, made a dressing and then went to bed. He slept soundly and serenely.


	4. Chapter 4

Meantime Elenor had arranged her personal life. She suddenly realized the transiency of human life and the fragility of earthly beauty and decided on a simple owner of an auto shop, who became a stepfather to Arney. He was an unremarkable man, not handsome, bald, fat, with a big beer belly and the ego even bigger. He liked to teach everyone everything, and a teenager in a family became a good excuse for the flow of his eloquence. Arney tried to avoid the intrusive attention of his stepfather, but he did not always succeed. Besides that Heinrich that was his stepfather's name wanted to introduce Arney to his business to make him a car repairman, that Arney wasn t happy about. Whenever a stepfather called him to a car repair shop, Arney had to think up painfully a reason not to go there, but that didn't always sound convincing, and he often had to give in to his stepfather's insistent demands and do something that he wasn't interested in. In the auto shop Arney served as an errand boy and was treated to a fair amount of curses, slamming and ridicule. This fragile dreamy teenager obviously wasn t created for physical labor.

He was much more interested in other mechanisms musical ones. Arney was interested in the device of all even the most weird musical instruments: from old music boxes to modern synthesizers, and even more he was interested in the sounds they made. At this time the space in the head, that used to be filled only with self-deprecating and suicidal thoughts, began to fill with sounds and melodies not heard before. Sometimes it was pleasant, sometimes it was painful: Arney wanted to find an expression of this music in the material world, but didn't always succeeded.

There was an old black C. Bechstein piano in the living room in relatively good condition. Eleanor used to play it as a child and taught Arney as well. When no one was at home, he would go to the instrument and try to reproduce the music in his head. Sometimes Arney would sit for hours at the piano, trying in vain to extract some semblance of the music he had heard.

One day his stepfather caught him in this occupation, and it resulted in a major quarrel between them. "You said you couldn t go to the auto shop because you have to study for a math test, and now you're playing this rubbish! Who did you want to trick? Did you think I'm a fool? Moron! For sure nothing good will come of you! You're all as your daddy fagot!" stepfather assault Arney. "What right do you have to talk to me like that? I don't owe you anything! And I don't need your stinky auto shop! - replied Arney, trying to keep as calm as possible. While Heinrich was ready to burst with anger. He was shocked by the response of Arney, who wasn t rebellious before, he could not find words to rein up the impudent youth. "Keep yourself, you little bastard! I'll remind you of that! You will go to the auto shop every day! You will clean the toilets! You will do whatever I want!" - the angry man sputtered. "No! Arney replied calmly. His stepfather's eyes were bloodshot, and his red moustache twitched nervously on his distorted face. Heinrich lunged at Arney, trying to grab the boy by the collar of his shirt, his red, broad hand almost touching the boy's thin pale neck, but at the last moment Arney managed to get out and run away.

He wandered through the streets of the dusky city for a long time and the music in his head grew louder and more insistent, so he had a terrible headache and wanted to smash his head against the wall of the nearest house, but fortunately it began to rain, that cooled his burning head and relieved his suffering. He walked for a long time in the darkness, not knowing where. He could think of nothing but the music. Arney did not notice how he found himself in an unfamiliar place, and it didn't even frighten him at all.

It was an unfamiliar dormitory area. Houses were silhouetted against the night sky, and here and there the fireflies of the windows shone. Suddenly Arney was surrounded by a pack of drunk teenagers, appearing from nowher. One of them walked up to Arney and pushed him in the chest without a word. Then others joined in, pushing and kicking him. Arney didn't know what to do in such a situation, he never fought and didn't try to defend himself. The blows became more and more frequent and stronger, he was struck across the face, and the salty taste of blood was felt in his mouth. Finally a heavy blow knocked Arney off his feet, and they kept kicking him. He curled up and covered his bloody face with his hands. The thought flashed through his mind: "They will kill me, probably, and there's nothing wrong with that." But the teenagers were already fed up with their senseless cruelty and began to disperse, leaving exhausted Arney's body lying on the ground wet with rain and blood.

It was late in the morning when Arney came home, ragged and bloodied, his face swollen. His mother and stepfather didn't scold or beat him, as they felt partially guilty about what had happened. They didn't report to the police either, because Arney didn't remember the place and the faces of the assaulters . He was lucky that he didn't suffer serious injuries and quickly recovered. After this incident the question of the auto shop went by the wayside. Now mother and stepfather were not up to Arney, because Elenor was expecting a baby and their attention was focused on the future.

Then another important event took place in the Arney's life. A new girl came to his class. She was from a family of immigrants from Eastern Europe and therefore was not popular with her classmates. No one wanted to sit with her at the desk, and as Arney was sitting alone, she had no choice but to sit next to him. Arney always felt sympathy for outsiders, because he was outsider himself, and they became friends soon. The girl's name was Emma. Arney helped her with German and adaptation to a new environment, he explained to her the local order and showed her different places. Emma admired the quiet, patient, modest boy, who tirelessly explained everything to her and corrected her mistakes. Besides that he was rather good-looking, though he didn't look healthy, it was a sickly fragile beauty. Soon Emma became attached to Arney, as Arney to Emma likewise, because he had no friends at all. They went home after school together. Arney took her to the Jewish cemetery, where they talked, read books or just lay on the grass. Sometimes Emma took Arney's hand, and he didn't resist. They seemed to be a nice couple: a quiet, thoughtful young youth and a bright, red-haired, brisk girl.

Once on a warm spring day, they basked in the sun in a secluded corner of a Jewish cemetery. Arney felt haggard, because he slept badly at night - he dreamed of music. And this time it was some kind of hellish symphony. It seemed to him that it was created by the moans of souls of dead people, experiencing terrible torture. Each kind of suffering had its own musical tone, and together they created harmonies of extraordinary beauty, which Arney couldn't reproduce, and that was painful for him.

During the day the music did not tormented Arney so much, so taking advantage of the moment, he quietly sank down on the young fragrant grass, closed his eyes tiredly and dozed off in a while. Emma gazed at his beautiful face. In the sun it looked thin and pale, almost transparent. Suddenly she wanted to kiss him. She gently touched his tender, warm, pale pink lips. Arney opened his eyes in surprise and startled back. "What are you doing? I kissed you? I hope you do not mind? Emma said. Why did you do this? - Arney wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "I just love you," - Emma replied confusedly. "Never do this again! You shouldn't love me." "But why?" My mother cursed me. I was a small boy then. It was a quiet summer evening, I walked with my mother along a country road. I don't even remember where we were going. The air was filled with the chirping of grasshoppers and the croaking of frogs. Suddenly my mother took my hand and said that it was as cold as a frog's foot, and that I had the same cold frog's heart and would never love anyone. She was smiling. I know these words were nothing but a joke for her, but to me they sounded like a curse. At that moment I realized that I really would never love anyone. You may find this story strange and even funny, but it's true. And if you really love me, we have to break up, because I will never love you."

Emma's large blue eyes filled with tears. It was painful to hear these incomprehensible cruel words. Not knowing what to say, Emma turned away and wanted to go, but Arney called out to her. "Emma, wait! Please, stay with me! I didn't mean to offend you. I just can't. Do you understand me?" Emma stopped for a while and looked back at Arney. It seemed to her that it was the last time she saw Arney, that she knew and loved. And though she was pleased that Arney hadn't let her leave so easily, she knew it was over. Struggling with her feelings, she turned away and ran to the cemetery gate, wanting to get rid of these heavy, heart-breaking experience as quickly as possible. It wasn't less painful for Arney. He didn't want to lose his friend, but he couldn't love Emma. After these events it was impossible to return to the previous relationship. They saw each other less and less, and soon Arney felt as lonely as before, but it didn't bother him so much, because he get used to loneliness and even liked it. He knew that solitude was freedom. 


	5. Chapter 5

After the birth of the child Arney was unwanted in the family, and he was constantly reminded of this. Elenora had forgotten Arney at all, as if he didn't exist in her life, and Heinrich was constantly reproaching Arney for eating bread for nothing: studying not well, being idle all the time. Heinrich said to Arney if he didn't want to help him in the auto shop, he should look for another job. Arney listened to this reluctantly, but he did not want to conflict. He just didn't come home often and spent a lot of time on streets, looking for a place for shelter, sleeping on benches, hiding in porches. He ate poorly and didn't change clothes for weeks. He smelled like a tomb. People looked at him warily and shied away, mistaking him for a bum. Arney felt like a stray dog, spending most of time with dogs, watching their simple life, envying them, because they had fur to protect them from the cold, could feed on garbage, fuck and breed on the street. Arney instead of this had a sensitive thin skin, a constant stomach ache, and a sharp sense of loneliness.

One day, passing a night club, he heard music that seemed familiar to him, he decided to go in there to kill time he had with an excess now. It was a dark smoky room with a lot of drunk, dirty teenagers dressed in black. They didn't pay attention to Arney, so Arney felt quite comfortable. An unknown deathrock band was playing on a stage, an unintelligible noise was conveyed from amplifiers. Arney sat on the greasy sofa in the dark corner and closed his eyes. He was so tired that he could fall asleep even in such unfit setting. No one bothered him, that suited him well, so he stayed until closing time and then went home. He preferred to go home when everyone was asleep.

Arney entered through the back door that led to the kitchen. The house was quiet and dark. He tiptoed over to the frige. was so hungry that it was felt like pain. Arney began to stuff himself with everything: pork sausage, potato salad, pasta, kefir, mayonnaise, until he was sick. He lost the habit of eating normally. Footsteps sounded from above. Arney crouched against the wall and froze in anticipation. The sound of footsteps rose and fell until disappeared. Arney wondered if it would be safe to sneak into his room to change clothes and lay down in a soft bed. After waiting for a while he went upstairs, pulled off his dirty rags, stretched out on the bed and tried to relax. He could not sleep, for he was afraid of being found there. Suddenly a child cried behind the wall, there were footsteps, rustles, voices. It was unbearable. It's better to sleep in a smoky noisy club than in a house where you are hated. It seemed that he felt this hatred with his skin, approaching the very heart and depriving him of his strength. Finally Arney could not stand it anymore, he got up, put on clean clothes and went to the door.

He didn't go to school now, because he was ashamed of his appearance. He began to look for work, but employers didn't want to take a strange teenager even to the dirtiest unskilled work. Arney felt like a cornered animal in this situation, he was in dire need of support, but he could not turn to anyone, since he had no friends, and there was no one he could trust.

He began to visit the club more and more often, and they began to recognize him there. Gradually he began to join the crowd, adopt their manners, slang, style. He was even given a new name Svenny. Once he complained to a friend that he was tormented by music in his head, that he didn't have opportunity to record. And the friend said he knew a guy who could help him. He promised to talk to him and arrange a meeting. Arney agreed.

The meeting took place on a cold autumn night in the Negative club. His name was Holger. They stared at each other for a long time, not daring to speak, as if studying. Arney thought that Holger was too young, too self-confident, too skinny and short, that didn't gave Arney feeling of reliable shoulder, but he had no choice but to trust him. Holger thought that Arney was too neglected, he had a lot of work to do, but he could be made into a candy. The club was smoky and hot, and the music was playing too loudly, so it was almost impossible to talk.

So they had to go outside. They stood next to the women's restroom, waiting for the concert to end, so they could talk in a more favorable atmosphere. It was very cold outside. Arney was trembling and couldn't get a word out of his mouth. Holger, on the contrary, looked relaxed, and even seemed not to be interested in this meeting at all. He took a pack of cigarettes - "Angst und Schmerz" printed - from the pocket of his long black overcoat and lit the cigarette. He didn't offer a cigarette to Arney, he didn't even look in his direction. Arney thought, "This little man thinks too much of himself!"  
Finally, when Arney was completely frozen in his light coat, desperately trying to warm his frozen fingers with his own breath, the concert ended. Now they were able to go inside, and Holger led Arney behind the stage to a dark secluded spot. There, without a word, he pressed Arney against the wall and kissed his lips sensually. Arney was just stunned by this turn, he even had an erection. Meanwhile Holger turned abruptly and, as if nothing had happened, began the conversation: "Ulrich told me that you want to write music? Is that so?" "Yes", said Arney. "What kind of music are you going to write?" "I don't know. I hear music in my head all the time, as if someone is whispering it to me. Sometimes it's quite painful, because I can't express it, and I feel like I have to do this, as if it were my mission. Would you like to help me?"

"Yes, I know this stuff. You can rely on me", Holger said pointedly. "Where do you live?" "I live nowhere". "How is that?" "I'm at odds with my parents." "Nothing wrong. Me too. We will rent an apartment." "I don't have money". "Don't worry. I'll manage everything. And now I have to go. Bye, baby! See you later!" Finally Holger looked at Arney's eyes, Holger's eyes were cornflower blue, and they were smiling. Then Arney was left alone. He couldn't let go of his impression. He couldn't believe this was happening to him, that someone had paid attention to him, that he might be of interest to someone and evoke sympathy, not disgust. He thought, "Holger is not so bad. It doesn't matter that he's self-confident. Perhaps he has a reason. No matter he is skinny and short. Holger is terribly cute! I like him more and more." Arney was looking forward to the next meeting and kept replaying yesterday's conversation in his head. This moment has come. Holger came to the club, and Arney found him even more likable, affable and sweet. Holger ordered a cocktail for himself and Arney and chatted about nothing. A strand of hair hid one side of his face, a blue laughing eye stared at Arney. Arney was overjoyed. He noticed that a lot of people approached Holger: everyone wanted to talk to him, he was incredibly charismatic and popular. Finally Holger said, "Let's go and see the apartment".

It was a small but comfortable apartment with a tiny room and a kitchen. There wasn't much furniture, but there was a huge gorgeous mouse-grey sofa in the middle of the room. "Do you like it?" Holger asked. "Of course! Arney replied. "You'll be good, kid! I'll visit you. I m waiting for songs from you". Arney wanted Holger to stay with him, hug him, kiss him as he had when they first met, but Holger was in a hurry again, and only gave him a careless kiss on the cheek. Arney felt sad, lying on the huge sofa, thinking of Holger, masturbating. He hated this occupation because it reminded him of his loneliness, but at the same time he couldn't shake the habit. The next day Holger said right from the doorway: "That won't do! Look at yourself! What a scarecrow you are? Do you ever wash yourself? What the hell are you wearing? Take it off and throw it in the dumpster or rather burn it, probably insects live there. I'll take care of you from now on. Here are your new clothes". Holger threw a black bag on the floor. Arney wanted to see what was inside, but Holger stopped him: "Don't touch it! First go to the shower and scrape off all the dirt". Arney obediently went to the shower. Holger paced the room, trying to shout down the running water: "Don't be sad, Svenny! Everything will be fine! I'll make a candy of you! You'll be a star! We'll make a mark! We'll be famous!" Finally Arney came out of the shower, wrapped in a white bath-towel, pink and shining with cleanliness. Holger looked at him appraisingly. "Now you can get dressed". Arney picked up a bag of clothes, there was something black, oversized, undefined in shape. Arney didn't even know how to wear it. He turned it over in his hands and threw it on the sofa. "What is this? an I wear these?" "Certainly, it's a fashion thing". "I don't know how to wear this". "I'll help you". Holger came close to Arney, he smelt of subtle perfume and expensive cigarettes. Arney's heart was racing. Holger took the thing he had slim, delicate hands - and helped Arney put his head through the hole. When Arney was dressed, he saw that it was some kind of huge shapeless robe. Holger took two steps away from Arney and gave him another look. "I have to go now", Holger smiled. Before leaving, he gave Arney the book "Varney the vampire, or The feast of blood of blood". "Read this!" he said.

But there was something missing in the image of Arney-Varney. Holger insisted on Arney get piercings in his nose and ears. He personally undertook the operation. Holger assured Arney in his proficiency. He made Arney lay down on the sofa, pulled on white latex gloves and orded not to move with an important air. A bee will bite you now", Holger said in a jocular tone, holding the needle up to Arney's face. These words had an effect of electrical discharge on Arney, he sharply darted to the side. "I didn't know you were so nervous. If you twitch I'll pierce your eye", Holger said sternly. Arney calmed down by an effort of will and trusted the master's practiced hands. There was a little pain and two neat piercings were ready. Holger was really a professional. The same piercings were made in the ears, and small silver rings were inserted into them. A week later, when the redness was gone, thin silver chains were threaded through the rings, extending from the nostrils to the earlobes. To complete the image, it remained only to shave the forehead and do gothic make-up. Holger was happy with the result. "Now you are Varney!" he said. Having achieved the desired result, Holger started taking his newly-baptized friend to different parties. He liked Varney's melancholy femininity, and brought him women's ajour stockings that suited Varney's slender legs very well, he asked him to wear them whenever they were together. At all the parties Holger called Varney his girlfriend, put his arm around his waist and patted his ass defiantly. Sometimes he kissed Varney passionately in front of a stunned audience. Some laughed at the weird couple, but there were those who sincerely admired them. Holger enjoyed it. It didn't even bother him that the ordinary people cast sidelong glances at them and called them "freaks". Holger was bathed in glory.

But when Holger and Varney were alone, Holger was completely cold to Varney, and Varney was very upset about it. He didn t want publicity, he wanted warmth and affection, but every time after another party Holger left Varney alone, without giving him even the most innocent kiss. Varney knew that Holger had a girlfriend, Holger wasn t even bisexual, he just liked an aura of homosexuality around him, because it attracted attention. But it was a cruel game for Varney, because he loved Holger. Varney suffered greatly from the burning desire inside him, and at nights he could not sleep for a long time and rushed around the empty apartment, not finding a place for himself. He had no choice but to write poetry:

Tongue of silence, lick my lips, steal my thoughts, steal my pride. My soul lies offered as I'm waiting, intoxicate me when you step inside

\- Sopor Aeternus, Tanz Der Grausamkeit (Dance of cruelty)

Varney pondered painfully for a long time what was happening between him and Holger: "Why doesn't Holger want to stay with him? Why can't Holger love him? What's wrong with Varney? Is it all about this little anatomical feature, this ugly appendage between his legs? He would willingly get rid of it if he knew that it would bring him love of Holger. But is it really all about having the right hole in the right place? Is it because of this defect he is doomed to eternal loneliness? How life is cruel and unfair to him! How stupid and unfair Holger is! He doesn't know that no one will ever love him like Varney, and no right holes can give him that love. After all if it's only about holes, then any of them will do for fun. But love requires something more".

In between hangouts and love torments Varney and Holger were recording their first and last trilogy "Blut der schwarzen rose" ("Blood of the black rose"), inspired by themes of vampirism and self-destruction. For this purpose Holger brought Varney to the apartment of his friend, who had a synthesizer and recording equipment, and they started working, or rather Varney started, because Holger's contribution to the music consisted mainly in giving useless advice. Varney had a hard time, because up to this point the process of recording music was completely unfamiliar to him. The sound of the synthesizer didn t correspond to his inner hearing, and he had to be content with what he had, trying to bring the real sound to the ideal as close as possible. The result only vaguely resembled the music he heard in his head. It was less than satisfactory, but better than nothing. The record was released in a limited edition of 200 copies. The cover featured the name of a new music project Sopor Aeternus & the Ensemble of Shadows. 


	6. Chapter 6

When the recording was made, Holger was in high spirits. He already thought of himself as a star. He began to hustle and shove this record to anyone, making connections, arranging concerts, he didn't even consider it necessary to inform Varney. He achieved some results and came to Varney with the happy news, but contrary to expectations Varney didn't take the news with enthusiasm. He was now in a state that could be described as "postpartum depression." Having given material birth to his music, he put all his soul into it, and now he was completely exhausted. Any contact with the outside world irritated him, the sunlight hurt his eyes. He just lay on the sofa, covering his face with a pillow, and didn't want to see or hear anyone. He answered all questions and appeals with a muffled groan. Holger was very angry with him, because all his dreams and plans were destroyed.

He was sorry for the wasted time. He was ready to kill this "idiot". Holger tried to take the pillow away from Varney, but he couldn't, so he pulled him off the sofa and began to beat him, but Varney didn't answer, he covered himself with the pillow and mumbled. In the end Holger got tired of it. The next day he made another attempt to bring Varney to his senses, but failed and went away so as not to return. So Varney was left without a friend or means of support.

The black sun rose above the horizon. The dark days of Saturn dragged on, wandering between pain, extreme pain, and emptiness. All ghosts rose from the subconscious and began to dance madly in Varney's mind. All sorts of inner torments tortured his brain: guilt, shame, self-abasement, self-flagellation, resentment, pain, a sense of impotence, self-pity, regret for the past, fear of the future, and a death wish. It seemed that every nerve cell was on fire, and at the same time he couldn't even move. He wasn t paralyzed, but every movement required a tremendous effort of will, and all this was aggravated by rejection of material reality. Varney didn't even want to open his eyes: every line, shape, and color was painful, every sound was a torture to his nerves, and every smell annoyed him. The smell of his own body made him sick. And how disgusting were the tactile sensations! The friction of skin against fabric was unbearable. Varney tried not to move, so as not to worsen this condition, because each new contact with material objects caused pain. But the pain wasn t physical. Varney understood it was of a subtle immaterial nature, it was a persistent, irresistible feeling of aversion to material objects, matter itself, existence as a whole. Only his own weakness kept him from final solution.

It was the worst hell he could imagine. His body was intact, while his soul burned, but couldn't burn completely, because it was immaterial, and therefore this torment had to last forever. Death would be salvation in this position. Varney dreamed of a tender, devoted friend who would bring him a vial of deadly poison. Oh! If there were a man who would understand him, who would show him compassion and kill him with his own hands! Murder is the highest form of mercy. Assistance in death is the true meaning of love. But alas there was no one in the world who would respond to his pleas. There was no one to ease his agony.

And, being in this hell, he had to solve everyday problems, take care of this mortal body: get up from the couch, go to the toilet, wash himself, blow his nose, urinate, defecate, eat, because the body demanded this. It was unbearable. When he ran out of food, he had to go to the store, but in this condition it seemed like a spacewalk. At the same time, Varney was tormented by an incredible sense of guilt and shame because of his helplessness. He couldn't even pee properly now, his hands were shaking, urine was spattering around the toilet bowl, and he didn't even have strength to clean up after himself. What a jerk he was! What scum! He had always been and always would be. Holger was right to leave him. He'd never done anything worthwhile in his life. He brought joy to no one by his miserable existence of the worm. He couldn't really love anyone. He couldn't even kill himself. Even his music was worthless: constant headaches and three shitty demos that no one wanted to listen to. He had no power to promote it, and no one else would do it for him. All his dreams were illusions. And what was the future? He just didn't have it. The future would be always the same: suffering, violence, death. If only there were no reincarnation! Just don't be born again!

When the lease expired, the landlord Herr Schweiger found Varney in a state of extreme nervous and physical exhaustion. A strange skeletal creature with deep-sunken eyes, unresponsive to human speech, resembling the horrors of Auschwitz and Buchenwald, peered from under pillows and blankets. The apartment was dim: the light barely filtered through the black plastic bags taped to the window frames. When Herr Schweiger turned on the light, Varney whined piteously. The place was a mess: empty beer cans, fast food packages, chocolate wrappers, dirty socks, underwear, used handkerchiefs, rusty disposable razors, broken audio cassettes, scraps of crumpled scribbled paper were everywhere. The kitchen was full of dirty broken dishes and rotting food crawling with insects. There was a sickening smell of decay everywhere. At first the owner thought that perhaps his apartment had become a drug den and wanted to call the police. But when he looked closely, he didn't see any used syringes or any other signs of such activity. He realized that situation was a little more complicated. This guy didn't seem normal. He needed help. Herr Schweiger had a hard time getting his parents' details and phone number out of him.

When the mother and stepfather arrived at the apartment, they saw a dreadful scene. It was hard for Eleanor to believe that this bellowing monster was her son, but she had no choice but to accept the fact and take him home. Now she was forced to pay attention to him, take care of him: wash, dress, water, feed with a spoon, because he was no longer able to do anything himself. She felt as if she had returned to the days of her youth, when her son was a baby, and she had to take care of him. It annoyed her at the time, because she was young and beautiful and needed the attention of men, and instead she had to deal with diapers and baby poo. She didn't have enough milk, her breasts ached, and this little creature kept screaming and demanding something. It needed love too, but it couldn't love her back the way she wanted, that's why she hated him. It was all gone now: she was not so young, not so beautiful, she was fed up with men. Now she wanted to go back in time and give her son the love he hadn't got as a child. She looked at the emaciated body of her son, and her heart filled with a tenderness she hadn't felt before. She leaned over his thin legs and kissed his pale blue-veined feet, washing them with sudden tears. And these were tears of happiness. 


	7. Chapter 7

It was many months before he got out of this hell, before he could look at this world again without pain, hear sounds, feel smells, appreciate touches, come to terms with life and himself. It was necessary to be reborn again, just to continue to live. And he felt that new things were born in him, growing, demanding manifestation, insistent and imperious, but he didn't yet know what it was. It was a kind of unspeakable longing that beckoned him somewhere, especially it was persistent at night. Moonlight streamed in through the window, making strange patterns on the floor. The tart smell of night lilies wafted through the window. It was impossible to sleep that night. He got out of bed, put on a light silk gray ape and went out into the garden. It was as bright as day. He walked barefoot on the grass. The soft untrimmed grass tickled his feet. Then he went out into the street and went toward the white disk of the moon. He felt that this was a special magical night, something special was going to happen. At last he came to a desolate spot, where a hill rose in the moonlight. As he climbed up, the light cloth slipped from his shoulders and fell to the grass. The moonlight shrouded his snow-white body in a silvery glow. A light night breeze caressed his delicate skin, which didn't know the sunlight. He paused for a moment, listening to the music in his head. It was completely new music unlike anything he had ever heard before. It wasn't the voices of the dead, it was the sound of moonlight. He felt that he had to express it somehow. He began to move slowly in time to the music. At first the movements were timid and awkward, but then more confident and relaxed. He closed his eyes and completely surrendered to the vibration coming from within, trying to reproduce it in his move. Finally his body completely merged with the rhythm of the music into one. It was not a dance in the ordinary sense of the word, it was an inner need to express feelings through action, and it was an act of worship of the moon goddess, a manifestation of the goddess in physical form. This was the birth of a new form of beauty. And this was She, eternally young, pure and wise, furious and gentle, attractive and unapproachable, erotic and virginal, beautiful Anna-Varney Cantodea. 


End file.
